


The One

by serpienten



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes - Freeform, Captain America - Freeform, College AU, College!Bucky Barnes, College!James "Bucky" Barnes, College!James Barnes, College!James Buchanan Barnes, F/M, Fluff, James "Bucky" Barnes - Freeform, James Buchanan Barnes - Freeform, Pining, The Winter Soldier - Freeform, a whole lotta angst, and they were into each other, au: college, everything one needs to survive, oh my god they were roommates, shocking, steve rogers - Freeform, steven grant rogers - Freeform, theres also a whole lotta pining, without the other knowing, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 09:44:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17041388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serpienten/pseuds/serpienten
Summary: Y/N is in love with Bucky Barnes. Bucky Barnes is not in love with Y/N.





	The One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hi, yes this is my first post on Ao3. FYI, this has already been posted on Tumblr as a three-parter. This fic is very close to my heart so any form of feedback would be more than just appreciated <3 Thank you very much

She thinks he’s perfect.

In her eyes, Bucky Barnes is complete and utter perfection, with all his flaws and all his mistakes and all the baggage and everything about him he looks at with disgust in his eyes. To her, he’s it. He’s the one she wants to wake up next to in the morning, with sun filtering through the curtains and her head on his chest, or a soft, chilly breeze drifting in from the outside that makes being tucked into his side, strong, muscled arms tightly wrapped around her feel even more like home. He’s the one she wants to hug from behind when he makes coffee in the morning, face pressed into the skin between his shoulder blades. He’s the one with whom she wants to watch silly comedies or awful horror movies or the documentaries he likes so much. He’s the one she wants to see smile, the one she wants to hear laugh so hard it makes his eyes water and belly ache of happiness, the one she wants to hear giggle like a little school child and the one she wants to be happy.

God, she wants to make him happy.

She’d tear herself apart and bring him the world if that’s what it took. She’d do anything for him to just be happy because if anyone deserves peace and order and a mind at ease, it’s Bucky. Bucky, who’s the most wonderful and considerate and brave and caring person she’s ever had the pleasure of knowing. He’s smart, too, insanely clever and witty and occasionally a real jerk – but, alright, who wouldn’t brag about grades like that? – but he makes up for it by helping her study for things that don’t come as easily to her.

He even makes tea for her and Bucky hates tea. Hates the taste and the blandness of it without a, even for him, concerning amount of sugar. But when he sits down with her, in their cute, little and very efficient kitchen to study, he still pours himself a cup. It makes her smile every time and sometimes Bucky catches it and blushes, a sheepish smile twisting his lips before he clears his throat and begins to quiz her about things that make her head spin due to their complexity.

She adores and cherishes and appreciates every single piece of him, even the broken, darker, heavier ones. Y/N always notices when his self-control starts to dwindle when his mind starts to spiral out of control and she always tries to help. Even when he pushes her away. Over time she’s learned to give him his space when he’s in a state like that, but she still sometimes can’t help but knock on the door of his room that he locks behind him when he comes home to see if he’s okay.

She doesn’t always get an answer, but it always calms her heart when she does.

And if she doesn’t see him during those times, she certainly hears him.

The walls aren’t the thickest and his room is right next to hers and when he thrashes in his bed in the middle of the night and wakes up with strangled, pained noises leaving his mouth in between sharp exhales, she hears everything. She’s lost count how many times she’d blindly rushed to his door only to find it still locked and him out of reach from her. Her heart had cracked and splintered every single time her hands and forehead had pressed against the cool, smooth wood, unable to bear the thought that he was alone in there with his demons. Gladly, though, he always seems to find his way back to her and somehow, he always thinks he has to apologize for his emotions, lets her hug him and press little kisses to his temples and his forehead.

Y/N doesn’t mind his darkness.  
Light wouldn’t shine so bright if there wasn’t darkness always lingering a few steps behind, catching up from time to time and then falling back behind again.

God, he’s it for her.

Keys jingling in the lock of the front door make her snap out of her thoughts and back into reality. The door swings open with a creak they’d meant to fix ages ago but never did and the bundle of keys lands on the designated shelf. She turns around with a frown, brows creasing. 

“Home so soon?”

She really is surprised to see him home. He’s away more often than not lately, skips movie nights and study sessions and dinners with her and sometimes when he cancels, telling her he’s running late at the library or whatever, he doesn’t come home at all. It’s not like she’s snooping or anything, not at all, but when she gets up at six in the morning and his shoes and bag are nowhere to be found and the smell of his usual coffee is notably missing, it’s sort of apparent.  
And it’s not hard to guess who he’s with when he doesn’t come home either, he’s been with Natasha for close to five months now, but it’s certainly not as easy to accept. She has to, though. Because not accepting it means having to come clean about her feelings, risking everything, and she’d rather live with standing on the sidelines and being his friend than to not be with him at all.  
Maybe that makes her selfish. Bucky deserves the truth, her honesty. But no matter how much he means to her and how her skin starts to tingle whenever he so much as brushes against her and how her chest bursts with longing for him, she’s not quite ready to break her own heart just yet.

When she turns, she finds Bucky setting down his bag and thumbing through the mail before he grins.  
“Hey, roomie.”

“If you’d told me, I would’ve cooked,” she mumbles, propping up her chin on the cushioned backrest of their grey couch.

He scoffs. “Thank god I didn’t. Your cooking is terrible.”

Y/N lets out a sound of mock offence that earns her a teasing wink from Bucky.

“No, no, no, no, no.” He throws down the mess of envelopes, magazines, and advertisements on their kitchen table, strides down into the living room and crouches down in front of her sitting form. “What we’re gonna do, is I make the popcorn, you pick the movies and we have one of our typical evenings,” a soft smile tugs the corners of his lips upwards as he speaks. “How ‘s that sound?”

There’s something off about that smile. Y/N doesn’t quite know what it is, but something is clearly different. She can’t place it so she pushes it to the back of her mind for now. Instead, she concentrates on the flutter in her chest at the realization that for the first time in so long, she’d get to spend time with him again. Like they used to before he’d started to inch away from her, bit by bit. 

She draws her bottom lip between her teeth, a smile blooming on her lips now as well. 

“Sounds good,” she eventually answers. When Bucky gives her his signature million-dollar grin, Y/N actually feels like crying because of how beautiful he is. He’s beautiful and soft and gentle and sweet and not at all hers to find beautiful and soft and gentle and sweet. For a split second, her smile falters and she’s thankful he doesn’t seem to notice. 

Not twenty minutes later, they’re on the couch, legs tangled comfortably and a thick, fuzzy blanket thrown over the both of them. Carefully propped up between their legs is a bowl filled with warm, salty popcorn in which they reach rotatory.   
It’s practically heaven to have him to herself again, heart singing at his close proximity. She wishes he were even closer so she could run her fingers through his hair, breathe in his scent, have it envelop her and feel the soothing, comfortable weight of his body against hers, but as per usual, that’s a wish that wouldn’t come into reality anytime soon. Or ever.

Y/N doesn’t really know Natasha, but what she knows, is that the red-head must be the luckiest woman on the planet. 

Spending time with Bucky feels good after all that time away from him. Amazing, even. Everything almost feels normal again, normal like before Natasha had coiled her perfectly manicured red fingernails around his heart and pulled it away from Y/N. Well, not that it’d ever belonged to her in the first place, but her best friend had become distant nonetheless.

He smiles at her occasionally, when their fingers touch in the popcorn bowl or when she moves her legs and her knee bumps against his and it’s becoming hard to ignore that it looks forced. And it sort of puts a damper on her happiness to see the person making her happy, faking their own.

It’s hard to concentrate on whatever they’re watching after that realization comes to her. It leaves her stomach in knots that make her appetite vanish, so for the rest of the movie she’s staring absentmindedly at the TV and fidgets with the fringe of the blanket.  
When the credits start to roll, she’s imagined about every scenario that could’ve made him unhappy with her. Maybe she was too clingy and that’s why Bucky had avoided spending time with her lately and had felt obligated to tonight. Or perhaps Natasha had cancelled their meetup tonight and he’d had nothing better to do. Or Bucky’s finally realized she’s not that interesting and fun to hang out with after all.

“Okay, what’s up,” Bucky’s looking at her, confusion evident but the smile is still on his lips when her gaze moves up to lock with his.

“I could ask you the same,” she says, defensively crossing her arms in front of her chest, pulling the blanket up higher in the process.

He’s silent for a moment before he grabs the empty bowl and sits up.  
“What do you mean?”

Y/N watches him stand up and walk to the kitchen. She gets up as well and follows him, leans against the counter and watches him place the bowl in the sink.  
“Do you have to ask?” she replies.

The muscles under his plaid shirt move when he sighs and puts his hands on the edge of the sink to lean against it. The want to put her hands on his shoulders and to ease the tension that’s flowing off of his hunched form in waves flits through her mind for a moment and makes her arms wound tighter around her chest.

“You can tell me if something’s bothering you, Bucky. You know that,” she continues, “So if I did something that upset you, just kno-” 

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Y/N you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then talk to me,” she pleads, taking a step closer. “What’s wrong?”

Bucky turns around to face her and when he does, the forced smile is gone, replaced by, what she thinks is even worse, an expression of guilt and sadness. He looks at her like he’s about to say something he’s going to regret, like he’s about to say something that’s not only going to break her heart, but also his.

“Natalia and I have been talking about moving in with each other,” he finally confesses and if there was another noise in the room aside from the quiet noise emanating from the television, she’s sure she would’ve missed it.  
And despite their faintness, the twelve words boom around her head like he just screamed them at her. 

“You’re moving out?” she asks breathlessly, frozen in place. She’s looking at him like a deer caught in headlights and she really does feel like she’s just been hit by a car.

Y/N thinks she sees Bucky’s eyes glisten but she isn’t sure when he lowers his head.  
“Yeah,” his reply comes out shorter and harsher than he intended and when he sees her eyes well up from the corner of his eye he fights the urge to reach out to her, comfort her. It’s not his place right now.

“O-okay,” she lightly tilts her head up and nods. She really feels like crying now, a sob bubbling its way up her chest that she’s now desperately trying to keep from tumbling out of her mouth. Because now he’s really not hers to find beautiful and soft and gentle and sweet. Soon, he wouldn’t be hers to find anything at all. They’ll go from roommates and best friends to best friends and then to friends and then to just acquaintances. She’s sure of it. And it breaks her heart to know that he’ll always be more to her than she’s ever been to him.

She takes a deep breath.  
“It’s getting really late, I should… I should really…” she feels his gaze on her again when she looks away, feels it burning holes into the material of her sweater.

Y/N shakes her head. There’s enough pressure on her chest to bring her to the brink of a panic attack and all she’s left to do is flee. “I’m sorry.”

She quickly turns around and is gone before Bucky has a chance to speak.

-

Two days later, the decision is final.

When Bucky tells her, she simply nods, the lump in her throat - which seems to have lodged itself there permanently - and the feeling of having the breath punched out of her lungs preventing her from putting her thoughts into coherent sentences. 

God, does she want to ask him to stay.

Instead, she just lowers her head and fiddles with the sleeves of her oversized sweater like it’s no big deal that the love of her life is moving in with his girlfriend, forces the most genuine version of a smile on her face that she can manage and makes it seem like her heart isn’t moving out right alongside him. 

She must’ve given a pitiful picture, standing in the middle of the living room, drowning in oversized clothes, hair tied up in a messy bun and carefully concealed heartbreak glistening in her eyes, because the next thing she feels is strong arms winding around her and pulling her in a warm, comforting hug that only makes the fragments of her soul splinter further. The only thing keeping the pieces together, pulled in shape by millions of fragile strings, is the hope that this won’t be the last time she gets to feel the mixture of contentment, elation, and serenity she knows only James Buchanan Barnes can provide. Just in case, though, Y/N allows herself to indulge in the warmth and peace cursing through her veins one more time.

Box after box, she helps him pack. Puts away clothes, wraps mugs in paper and places them carefully in a box labeled fragile and stacks books, picture frames and decorative articles in a bigger box with the label stuff. Piece by piece, gradually the apartment becomes emptier until only Y/N’s things are scattered throughout the rooms.

And then a week later, he’s gone.

She says goodbye to him at the moving van, hugs him tightly one more time and then says goodbye again. Bucky breaks the hug, pushes her back a bit and places both hands on her shoulders so he can look at her, regard her with an expression that reveals both worry and if she doesn’t interpret it the wrong way, guilt. She tries to tell herself that he feels guilty and sad for other reasons than just for leaving her alone with the bills that would prove much harder to pay now that she was alone. A mean, gloating, cackling voice in a dark part in her brain reminds her that he has a breathtaking, red-haired, Russian goddess waiting at his new home. The smile he gives her this time is real, genuine. Y/N feels the lump in her throat making it hard to breathe again.  
“Doll, we’ll see each other on Monday, you know that, right?” She gives a wet chuckle at the amusement that laces his tone and it’s incredible to her how he can still manage to make her laugh despite all the sorrow she feels. Ever since their movie night, she can’t help but ask herself if maybe all of this could’ve been prevented if she’d just told him about how she feels. Perhaps he would’ve told her he felt the same, would’ve wanted her close, would’ve wanted to fall asleep and wake up next to her every night and day, would’ve wanted to take her out on dates as often as their schedules allowed and maybe he would’ve wanted her just as much as she wanted him. Y/N doesn’t even want to imagine an opposite reaction to her confession.  
Well, she thinks, there’s no use saying anything now. He’s happy. Don’t ruin that for him. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know…” she sniffles and chuckles again. “I know, I just… I’m just gonna miss seeing your stupid face every day.”  
Bucky’s gaze softens imperceptibly and he quickly pulls her back in, resting his chin on top of her head. Y/N inhales his scent and revels in his close proximity before letting him go, stepping away reluctantly so he can turn around and get into the moving van.  
Because he turns away from her, she misses the staggering expression of devastation taking over his features, the sincere, caring smile gradually fading the farther he gets away from Y/N.

~

Y/N has never been aware of how much it sucks to live alone.

How would she, honestly, she’s spent all of her life around people. Her parents, siblings, friends and lastly, James. She’s never had to worry about someone breaking in at night and not being able to defend herself against burglars because there have always been other people there living with her. She’s never had to worry about having nothing at home to eat when she’s had no time to go and buy groceries for herself because she’s always been lucky enough to have nice people around that weren’t too greedy to share. She’s never had to worry about lying in bed sick and suffering on her own with no one to care about or for her. And with Bucky, she’s never had to worry about being alone with her worries, her problems or her happiness.  
Now, she’s all by herself. She feels like a little bird looking out of its nest that’s securely woven into the branches for the first time and has to prepare for its first flight. At the sight of the space between the nest and the ground, the little bird’s stomach flips. Y/N doesn’t even know what to do with all the alone time she now has. She could go out and bring home whoever she wants with her without having to check in with Bucky. It’s not really her style but, well, she could. Or she could get up in the middle of the night when she can’t sleep and turn up the music as loud as she wants without having a sleepy, grumpy Bucky turning it down again. Her neighbors would probably press charges if she ever did that more than once but who cares, right? She could even leave her stuff all over the apartment without anyone nagging her about it. Well, it’s actually always been her cleaning up after Bucky all the time to keep the place clean because he’d been the one to leave his stuff everywhere, but she could totally do that. She could just throw away the coffee without anyone whining about the lack of it and pointing out the overflow of tea bags in the cupboard. Except there was no coffee to throw out because since she’d never really been a fan of it in the first place and had never bought it, all of the bitter brown stuff had moved out with Bucky.

Y/N sells the place after a week of being alone.

Her sole income isn’t enough to cover the cost of everything she’d been able to afford before and in that week she realizes she doesn’t need that much space. Finding a roommate isn’t an option either because no one would be able to replace Bucky. The two of them had fitted together perfectly, gotten used to each other’s routines and quirks and habits so quickly it’d felt like they’d been living together forever. Imagining going through that again but with someone less… Bucky is more unpleasant than she’d originally anticipated. In the first few days of his absence, Y/N had found herself wandering aimlessly through the different rooms like a ghost only to have her heart pang painfully everything she’d noted a change where something from James had used to just so naturally sit. There were so many things haunting that place, so many memories of a love that had never been and she decides she can’t take it any longer. So she sells her home and buys a smaller, less pricey one instead.  
She decorates it completely different than the old apartment, makes sure that it’s fresh and new and different.

They, Bucky and Y/N, only see each other once that week. On Monday. He’s too busy settling into Natasha’s place to hang out after that, Steve tells her. Unlike the entirety of their friendship, the Monday is awkward and they’re unusually clumsy around each other, dance around questions like ‘So, how’re you doing? How’s living with the girlfriend?’ or 'Living alone must be nice, huh?’ to not make things even more awkward and ignoring the already tense air around them in the process.   
After that, after much thinking and a few tears, she decides that she needs space. 

And she takes it. 

Three weeks she manages not to talk to him. It’s not easy, more often than she can count she’s close to caving, but when he stops calling and texting her after a week of being ignored, it’s starting to. She has to get over him, over that crush she has. And if putting some distance between the two of them for a while is what it takes, she’s more than willing to do that. Being Bucky’s best friend is so much more enjoyable when there are no unreciprocated feelings involved. 

During those weeks, Steve moves up one place as the person she has the most contact with. They spend their free time together and Y/N can’t help but notice how at ease she is and every time she realizes it, she wishes for her feelings to just disappear so she can just talk to Bucky again with the same ease she talks to Steve. Almost as soon as the longing that wish brings with itself comes, it’s washed away by the gnawing feeling of guilt. Here she’s spending time with her friend all the while she’s wishing to be with someone else. It’s not at all fair to her blond friend, so when he asks her why she looks so crushed all of a sudden, she has no choice but to tell him. 

She tells him everything. Everything. And for once, it feels good to just let it all out instead of eating it all up and swallowing it down. Y/N talks about every single thing that’s been troubling her ever since she’d realized her affection for their mutual best friend and Steve is more understanding of the situation and less shocked than she thought he would’ve been. 

It’s more like a fact to him than a revelation, but Y/N’s momentary confusion is chased away when the bell of Steve’s apartment cuts through the heavy atmosphere like a hot knife. 

“Oh, were you expecting someone?” She asks, glancing over to the clock above the low bookshelf next to the TV and sits up a little straighter, prepared to stand up and leave if need be. Y/N knows it can’t be Peggy, with the brunette being out with friends and having a key to her own apartment and all. So, of course, she gets ready to leave in case Steve’s attention is needed elsewhere, reaches for her jacket draped over the backrest of the couch with one hand while the other wanders towards the strap of her bag that leans against the coffee table right in front of the couch. She halts when Steve speaks up. 

“No,” his brows are furrowed, a crease forming on his forehead. “No, I’m not. Just wait here a second, I’m sure it’s nothing important.” With that, Steve disappears in the direction of the door. 

She hears the click of the door being opened.

And then. 

“Steve, do you-” 

Her heart stops. 

“Buck!” Steve exclaims, quicker and much quieter than necessary. Probably for her sake. It’s not his fault that the wall that separates the living room from the hallway isn’t the thickest. 

“Right now isn’t the best time so if you could just-”

“You kickin’ me out, punk? I just need my notes and then I’ll be on my way again.” 

“I’ll get them for you, alright? Just wait here.” 

Her feet carry her in the direction of the voices by their own accord. The closer she gets, the more her heart picks up the pace. It’s thrumming wildly in her chest, a rhythm it beats in around one person only. The poor, battered thing has been suppressed far too long and it’s like each throb nudges her closer to the front door. 

Y/N almost crashes together with Steve when she steps into the hallway. When she steadies herself she’s met with the blond’s wide-eyed gaze, before her eyes shift over his shoulder to the open door. 

Steely blue eyes and ruffled, chestnut brown hair, her heart skips a beat for the second time this evening. All that time away from him and she still feels like she’s falling. Her hand darts forward and violently grabs a fist of Steve’s shirt. She doesn’t even have time to care about the way he grimaces when her nails scrape over the skin of his abdomen when Bucky’s eyes widen alongside hers. Time slows while they look at each other for the first time in weeks. Her grip tightens on the fabric between her fingers. 

“Y/N.” 

The playfulness is gone from his voice, what’s left behind is the softness she’s used to and tears threaten to well up in her eyes. It’s been so long. 

“Bucky. Hi,” she whispers breathlessly. Instead of lessening the ache in her heart, it’s like the time apart from him has doubled it. 

Even from the distance, she sees his Adam’s apple move when he swallows and the breath hitches in her throat when his lips part and his tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. His jacket stretches over his broad, muscled shoulders that shift when his fists clench at his sides. 

“Uh..” he stammers, “I- uh… I’m just here to get something.” 

Y/N gives him a quick nod and while he mirrors her movements, his gaze moves to his feet. 

“Speaking of which,” Steve mutters and softly coils his fingers around hers to loosen her hold on his, now wrinkled, shirt. Her eyes snap up to his and she gives him an embarrassed look before quickly stepping to the side and letting him walk past her.   
Uncomfortable silence spreads as Steve makes his way towards the door that leads to the room next to the living room. Y/N can’t bring herself to look away from him but Bucky seems to have found an extra special interest in the almost invisible spatters of dirt on his black sneakers. 

When his friend returns with his notes, Bucky practically rips them out of Steve’s hands. He gives the blond an apologetic look and turns to leave, but not before sparing a glance at her. 

A sad smile twists his lips. 

Before Y/N has a chance to say something, he’s gone. 

-

Three weeks.

Three weeks. Twenty-one days. Five hundred and four hours. Thirty thousand two hundred and forty minutes. One million eight hundred fourteen thousand and four hundred seconds since Bucky’s last seen Y/N.  
And really, that’s just three weeks and a second too long.

After moving out, it’d only taken him a day to notice how much it sucks to live anywhere without her. It’s not as dynamic, smooth, fun and carefree with Natalia as it used to be with Y/N. It doesn’t feel… It’s wrong if what’s right is Y/N.

The whole process of moving out had been pure torture. He’d hated seeing her anywhere close to unhappy and what he’d hated even more was being the cause of it. She’d helped him pack, put away all of his stuff in those big brown boxes without so much as a sound of complaint. Bucky’s heart had contracted painfully every time he’d glanced at her and seen her absolutely heartbroken, crestfallen when she thought he didn’t notice. He always noticed. There was never a moment he missed anything she did. From her angel like laugh, soft smiles she gave him when he’d done something nice and she’d muttered a quiet thank you, the way she seemed to melt into his touch every time they had a movie night and he’d traced the outline of her calf with the softest touch of his fingertips through to the way her left hand rubs circles over his back when she hugs him.

God, does he miss her.

He misses her every time he has a nightmare, when he thrashes in his bed and strangled cries rip out of his throat and it’s Natalia instead of Y/N who knocks on his door to ask if he’s alright. He hadn’t often answered her in his foggy state of mind but it’d always soothed his soul to know she cared for him enough to get up out of bed in the middle of the night to knock on his door. When he reaches for the coffee in the cupboard now, he inwardly sighs every time at the lack of the heavy herbs and blossoms smell that had always emanated from Y/N’s mountain of tea bags. Bucky had complained almost all the time, had playfully whined about having to carefully burrow through the tea bags to reach his coffee and then had relished the little, a bit unladylike snort and the teasing eye roll she’d gifted him every time. Looking in the cupboard now, there’s only Bucky’s favourite coffee and Natalia’s favourite tea. It’s a pitiful picture. He finds himself closing the cupboard quickly every morning instead of breathing in the scent of the different sorts of tea like he’d used to. He finds he doesn’t like Nat’s tea.

He misses her touch being constant. Hands brushing against his from now and then, fingers gently carding through his hair and nails scraping over his scalp. Y/N had always just smiled when he’d practically purred, melted into her touch like ice under a summer sun, head in her lap while she sat on the couch, reading for fun or for a paper that was due. He misses her lips pressing against his temples and forehead soothingly, calmingly whenever he’d been ready to let her back in after one of his down phases. She never pressed him about shutting her out. He appreciated it but there’d always been the longing to share what was troubling him, haunting his dreams and the hours after waking. But that feeling had been mainly dominated by fear, a fear of being laughed at or judged even though he knew she’d never do something like that, he’d settled for the comfort of her embrace. Intimacies like that were sparse with Natalia, she knew how to keep her distance from him, but whenever they’d fallen into each other it had been all the more passionate. He’d thought that was something he wanted, but soon enough he realized that he craved being touched in more than a sexual way. Craved to be touched like Y/N would touch him.

Bucky misses her all the time. The emptiness she’s left behind with her absence is screaming at him, beating and punching and whacking every time he notices it and really, he’s just in a constant state of pain.

Of course, he knows it’s his fault. He’d decided he needed space after late night talks with Natalia. He’d decided he could somehow get over whatever it was he was feeling by just packing up his stuff and moving in with his girlfriend. He’d thought that somehow, by getting some space between them he could get back to being her best friend. Without his heart getting in the way.

All that space had done for him, though, was double the longing he’d always felt for her even when she’d been just a door away from him.

He’d only seen her once after moving out.

On Monday.

And it’d been a disaster.

They’d been awkward and clumsy around each other like those two years of living together and building that unbreakable bond of friendship had never happened. She’d avoided looking at him, had given him tight-lipped, obviously forced smiles whenever he’d said something and had worn a facial expression that conveyed pure discomfort. To say it hadn’t hurt to see her react to his presence like that would be the biggest lie of his life. But he is James Buchanan Barnes. And James Buchanan Barnes wouldn’t be James Buchanan Barnes if he wasn’t the absolute worst at confrontation. So he’d acted just as awkward.

Millions of reasons why she could be so cold with him flit through his mind but the one that sticks with him is that perhaps she’s glad to finally be rid of him as her roommate and is just tired of putting on an act. The thought breaks his heart. He doesn’t even want to consider that all of it, the entirety of their connection had just been a charade for the sake of them living together.

Bucky tried not to think about it too much but he couldn’t help it. It wouldn’t let him go. And immediately the next day, he’d called her. He’d clicked on the name next to the picture of her sticking her tongue out playfully and still looking like the goddess she is and lifted up the phone to his ear, heart hammering wildly in his chest. It had rung, and rung, and rung, and rung. And then she hadn’t picked up.

His heart had sunk. But he’d kept trying because perhaps she just hadn’t heard her phone. He’d kept trying but to no avail. He’d kept trying for a week before he’d finally understood what she was trying to do. After not hearing from her nor seeing her for a full week, he stopped trying to contact her.

And then, out of all places, he sees her at Steve’s.

He’d been there to get his notes for a class which he’d forgotten at the blond’s place and there she’d been. Breaking his heart and stitching it back together again all at the same time. And looking at her, looking like a vision in an oversized sweater and leggings and her hair up in a messy bun, he’d felt the suffocating urge to flee. After glancing at her one last time, he did. 

That had been another week ago.

Right now, she’s leaning against a table, entangled in a conversation with three girls Bucky’s only seen briefly before. He twirls the glass in his hand, swirls the amber liquid in circles while his eyes don’t leave her form once from his spot at the end of the bar. She’s so close and yet so far.

“Are you done sitting in the corner staring like a creep and ready to have some fun or should I come back in five?”

Natalia flops down on the seat right next to him, brushing back her hair over her shoulder and turning to look at him in one smooth motion. Dark eyes glimmering dangerously, she eyes him with a furrow of her perfectly plucked brows. His gaze snaps from Y/N to the red-head.

“I’m not ‘staring like a creep’,” he mutters, looking down at the glass in his hands. “I just… I’m…”

“James, don’t make it harder for yourself than it already is,” she says, “You know what I think about this. Either do something about it or don’t but stop moping in the corner for god’s sake you’re making everyone very uncomfortable.”  
Bucky rolls his eyes. “I’m not making anyone uncomfortable.”

“Yes, you are. Me.” She reaches out and takes his glass, throwing back the remainder of his drink. “Are you going to dance with me or not?”

Bucky glares at her, kicking her in the shin indignantly when she takes his drink. Skillfully as always, she dodges the kick and stands up. She takes a step forward and loops her arm through his, running her hands up his bicep.

“So?”

“I’m not in the mood, Nat.”

She sighs. “Alright. Don’t tell me I didn’t try…” She gives him a one-shouldered shrug and squeezes his arm, twirls around and saunters off as her hips swing seductively in the black dress clinging to her curves.

Bucky closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. He’d planned on having fun tonight but right upon entering he’d noticed her. Her laugh had floated over the crowd right toward him and just a moment later he’d seen her as well. God knows he’d be a fool for not taking the chance to look at her when she’s laughing and careless.

It’s been so long.

He reaches out to pick the glass back up just to have something in his hands and turns to look at her again. Eyes flickering through the crowd for a moment before they finally land on her form, he meets her eyes.  
His heart leaps in his throat.

Time slows.

She must’ve been looking at him for a while now because instead of shock and discomfort at having him here, all he finds in her orbs is sadness. A sadness almost palpable even over the distance between them. Bucky can’t bring himself to divert his gaze and neither, it seems, can she. His heart is beating violently against his ribs like it wants to burst out of its cage and fly across the room to the place where it belongs. They look at each other for what feels like hours, if not days even though it’s probably only a few seconds.

He waits for her to frown and turn her back to him any second now, to ignore ever having seen him. What she does instead, though, makes his heart jump once again. 

The outer corners of Y/N’s mouth slowly pull upwards in a smile. Albeit a sad one but Bucky’s heart still feels lighter, an almost unbearable weight having fallen off his chest. By force of habit and the pure relief he feels, his lips do the same. He lets out a hard breath and grips the glass a little tighter.

All of a sudden she stands up straighter, moves away from the table she’d been leaning against and makes her way in his direction. Bucky’s breath hitches in his throat and he swallows down the lump that’s starting to form there.

And then she’s in front of him and - when did he stand up?

“Bucky, hey,” she breathes out, fingers tangled in front of her stomach nervously. She’s so beautiful it takes his breath away.

“Hi,” he says. “Um…”

The volume in the room swells suddenly, a group not far from them gesticulating and arguing energetically. Bucky inhales shakily, slate blue eyes flickering towards the cluster of people before landing back on her. She’s even closer now, having taken a step forward and Bucky almost takes a step back. Almost.

“Can we talk outside?”

She looks up at him hopefully, so close to him now he can smell her favourite perfume lingering in the air around her. Without thinking about it, he nods.

Relief joins the glimmering hope in her eyes and she nods before she whirls around and heads for the exit, Bucky right behind her.

The cold air outside makes a shiver run up his spine even with a jacket, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Y/N clench her fists at her sides. Bucky knows the cold must be killing her but she turns to look at him without a single noise of complaint. Again, he finds himself note how gone he is for her. He shrugs off his jacket and holds it out for her to take.

He can see she’s caught off guard by the gesture but after a moment of hesitation, she takes it while muttering a quiet thank you, a soft smile on her lips. “Don’t,” he waves it off.

She slowly drapes the jacket over her shoulders and immediately after her fingers are tangled anew, fidgeting nervously. Silence settles around them, interrupted only by the music and loud chatter coming from inside. Bucky’s confused. All those weeks he’d spent thinking she hated him and now here they are. He should probably be afraid of what she wants to talk about because it’s most likely nothing good, but he’s finally close to her again and he just can’t bring himself to care.

“I miss you.”

Unshed tears glisten in her eyes when she looks at him and it takes everything in him not to pull her into his arms. It’s not really his place but, oh boy, does he want to. His heart squeezes painfully at her confession.

“I called you. You didn’t pick up.”

The lump lodges itself back in his throat.

“I know! I know and- and I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have ignored you like that. I’m sorry, Bucky. I miss you so much.” A tear slides down her cheek and she sniffles, vigorously wiping it away with the back of her hand. “I miss you so much and you’re… I just… All I want is you.”

Bucky is speechless. He doesn’t dare believe that she means it like that.

“And I know you’re here with your girlfriend - god, you have a girlfriend.” She inhales deeply, shakily, tipping her head back to keep the tears from spilling over. “But I just have to say this so I can move past this. So we can get back to how it was before. Okay?”

“Y/N…” He sighs. Her face falls but before she can say something he continues. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

She frowns, confused. “What?”

“Natalia and I… we broke up about four months ago,” he admits.

“S-so… uh…” Lifting her hand, she brushes stray strands of hair out of her face. “Wh- So you moved out because… Was I so awful as a roommate?”

She’s starting to blame herself and Bucky can’t have that. “No! God, no, not at all, that’s not why I moved out.” He takes a step closer in her direction. “Actually, it’s… it’s pretty much the opposite.”  
Y/N still looks confused.

“Well, I spoke a lot with Natalia and I thought it would be best if I moved out to get some space between us.” He gestures between the both of them, voice low and quiet. “So it would be easier to… get over you.”

Her eyes widen when he finishes. “You have feelings for me?”

“Of course,” he breathes, “How could I not? You’re perfect. You’re everything I could ever wish for. You’re everything I want.”

It’s quiet again while she lets it sink in.

“We’re idiots, aren’t we?” Bucky’s the one to break the silence first.

“Yeah, we really are.” A wet chuckle leaves her.

He reaches out and takes one of her hands in his, caressing the back of it gently with his thumb.

“Can we-”

“Yes.” She’s determined, putting the other hand on his neck to pull him closer. His forehead drops against hers, eyes fluttering closed. “Let’s go home.”


End file.
